


Idol

by Rottenfawn



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Developing Relationship, Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Underage Drug Use, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rottenfawn/pseuds/Rottenfawn
Summary: It was hard not to see his reflection in the younger when both of their bones were filled with trauma and tragedy.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Idol

**I think I'm an angel, but I am cursed**

"One day, I want to be like you, Val."  
A tight grin appeared on his face, eyes slightly narrowed behind the sunglasses hiding his genuine emotions.  
He reached out to brush his long fingers through blond hair, earning a purr as his darling leaned into the touch, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. The boy was way too trusting already.  
"You might want to overthink that, baby."   
The younger man tilted his head, batting his lashes as he raised a brow, a sly grin on the full lips.  
"I already made my decision."  
Valentino knew.

**What do you do? They look up to you,  
a porcelain doll, an idol, a tool.  
You dropped outta school, you're burning up fuel,  
an angel of death, the face of a ghoul. **

Angel was good at his work.  
It was effortless for him to sell the beloved goods on the streets that the older man managed to mix in his basement. Everything was more appealing in the hands of a beautiful face.  
While he had a foul mouth, he could spew the loveliest lies with the prettiest smile the world had seen.   
He was perfect by the dealer's side and natural for taking advantage of people blinded by his charm.  
It didn't take long for the blonde to make himself a name.   
He was the doll on Valentino's lap, his partner in crime, someone the others looked up to.  
Pretty, smart, and dangerous was an admired mixture, and Angel loved the limelight.   
Here he was allowed to be himself and live out a side he had hidden since he was a child.   
Blinded by the praises that he was showering in and the feeling of acceptance that came with his, his eyes were closed towards the rumors that were spreading and the despair that manifested itself whenever he faced his reflection.

**I ain't your idol, kid, I'm just a gangster.  
I cannot save you, son, I ain't no savior.  
I ain't your idol, kid, and I'm full of hatred. **

No matter how many admirers tried to get into the boy's pants, at the end of the day, it was Valentino who was allowed to pull the short skirt down over the flawless thighs, getting drunk on the perfection in front of him and enjoying the feeling of skin on skin.  
The gangster had tons of physical relationships in the past but not once his heart had been involved.   
While it felt like heaven on earth, something a man like him would never get a taste of, a little voice was whispering in the mind of his head.  
How dare he ruin an Angel searching for guidance?  
How dare he touched the pure with dirty hands and unholy thoughts?  
The hate was bitter and burning and infected every cell inside his body, and with every touch, he infected his lover as well. The dirt was imprinted on his soul and placed a hand on his mouth to never speak of its existence.  
But when he laid in his arms, hiding from the world and spilling the tears he couldn't cry when he had been a child, it was clear that Angel wasn't the one who was ruined.

**Looking at me, well, what do you see?  
The vision of something that you'll never be. **

Valentino killed without a second thought.   
If someone criticized his words, they were met with a bullet. It didn't matter if it was a man or woman; he silenced everyone equally who dared to raise his voice in his presence.  
The act of violence was met with pure admiration and thrill from his partner. The boy enjoyed the bloodshed, clinging to his side to see the life fading away.   
The excitement pulsated through his veins and revealed that beneath the friendly smile, and the styled hair was a psychopath who was only getting worse with being enabled.   
Sometimes, they pulled the trigger together.   
It was almost romantic how Valentino's bigger hand placed itself over the smaller one, encouraging the spiral into insanity.  
It gave Angel the power he needed, and it reminded the gangster of himself.   
It was hard not to see his reflection in the younger when both of their bones were filled with trauma and tragedy.

**The kingdom will come, they'll come for the king.  
What do you want? What do you need? **

He sometimes asked himself what Angel truly saw without getting blinded by the facade he put on.   
Was he disgusted in the nights where the sunglasses didn't hide the emptiness in his eyes, and no amount of glitter could cover up the filth he was coated continuously in? Did he notice that not even a shower could free him from the sins that were carved into his soul?  
Did he genuinely believe that Valentino could give him what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved with all of his being?   
There was nothing he could give but money and sweet lies filled with poison.   
Angel was beautiful and talented, and he could easily obtain life as a sugar baby, warming someone's lap who wasnt oozing evil out of every pore.  
It didn't change that the boy kissed his burns with soft lips and brushed his fingers over a body that had once been abused.   
His mind was filled with praises and peace that wasn't comparable to the peace he knows when he fulfilled his addiction.

**The look on your face, the desperation.  
I cannot take it, I feel it again,  
the needles are pushing up under my skin.  
I cannot speak, but the voices within,  
that evil is good and the virtue of sin. **

The boy didn't leave.  
He didn't shy back from the violence and the sin Valentino was the embodiment of.  
No act the older man committed was horrific enough to destroy the love that was setting him aflame like a raging fire.  
Raised in a family where no one trusted each other, where the lines between right and wrong were blurring, the young man searched for the love he never had the pleasure to experience before.   
While it was true that the gangster first fed him poisoned lies from his hands, it didn't change the fact that a fragile feeling started to develop in the rotten organ he called his heart.  
So when he blacked out and found himself with his hands wrapped around Angels's throat in a similiar way his father had choked his mother hundreds of times, he could only laugh about the true horror of the situation.   
It was something he had witnessed himself many times and the voice of his inner child was ringing in his ears, pleading him to stop and destroy the only thing he loved.  
It only demonstrated that he was destined to be a monster.  
He didn't apologize for the bruises that had formed on the delicate skin and that had to be hidden underneath turtleneck sweaters, so nobody knew that not even his most loved possession was save from the darkness festering inside.

**Who are you? What do you need?  
Are you sure you wanna be like me?  
Gotta pay up, nothing is free,  
a deal with the devil, a deal with me. **

The look in Angels' eyes changed.  
The light that had once brightened up every room the blonde stepped into was dimmed, barely visible anymore, and the knowledge that it was the gangster's doing was causing his skin to crawl.  
What once happened as an accident, a mere outburst of a toxic personality, started to turn into a habit.   
Valentino's hand was slipping more and more, adding bruises to the ones that already existed, only to press apologetic kisses on them minutes after.  
There was an unspeakable truth between both of them. The realization that Angel never would be like his partner was relieving, and even Valentino knew that the boy's veins weren't as clogged with poison as his own.  
The young man wasn't blind to the truth of the situation.   
He was aware of how people talked around his back, how he changed from a worthy addition to the criminal underground to a young and dumb lap dog, but in the end, it didn't change how he felt and that the only way he was content was with his abuser.  
Every pretty lie made up for every ugly word.   
It was still more than he had ever gotten before, and it was the closest to love he would ever get.  
There was no reason for him to leave and give up what they had.   
No amount of bruises would change that.


End file.
